Mass Effect: Mercy
by Marie Sanders
Summary: Written in the form of flashbacks, ME:M reveals the life of Mercy Shepard according to her strongest memories. It documents her childhood, growing up on the streets of New York, enlisting in the Alliance Military, her career, her N7 training, and all the events throughout the Mass Effect game trilogy. [CONTAINS SCENES OF ABUSE, SEXUAL ASSAULT, AND STRONG VIOLENCE]
1. Flashback: Interrogation

**[Flashback: 5 years before ME1]**

'Stop her before she kills him!'

The cell window was almost entirely obscured by blood spatter. Batarians bleed green -but Shepard already knew that. She was covered in the stuff. The prisoner was unrecognisable from the creature that had first entered the brig. Two of his four eyes had been decimated. Part of his head had caved in from the savage beating he had suffered. There were various sharp objects protruding from parts of his body, causing more blood to stream to the floor.

'Commander, open this door right now!'

Shepard ignored the muffled shouts from behind the glass. She had not yet extracted the information she needed. Losing patience, she grabbed hold of one of the instruments impaling the batarian's flesh and twisted. He screamed and writhed in agony on the floor.

Shepard crouched down beside him and leaned in close. 'You like pain, Droverk?' she hissed into his ear. 'I guess you must, because otherwise you'd have told me what I want to know.'

'Please!' begged the ruined prisoner. 'I don't know where they are! I swear!'

Shepard shook her head slowly. 'That's a shame…'

She kicked him in the face, sending another gush of blood cascading across the floor.

'Commander Shepard!' came another protest from outside the cell. 'I order you to open this door!'

The batarian was curled up in the foetal position, moaning. Shepard began to walk around him very slowly. Time was running out, but she did not want the batarian to know that.

'Now,' she began in a casual, almost conversational, tone, 'I don't know much about batarian physiology. But I'd hazard a guess that your most vulnerable spot is around the same area as ours…'

'Please, no…' whimpered the prisoner.

'For a _human_ male, my next idea would result in unbearable agony.' She pretended to consider this solemnly for a moment. 'I wonder how bad it would be for a batarian…'

'Listen, I don't know what I can say,' he cried. 'Please, I honestly don't know who bought those slaves or where they were taken.'

Shepard continued to ignore him. 'Just in case it didn't have the same effect, I'd have to incorporate some extra details…'

'Get that door open, now!' barked the Captain from beyond the window.

'Please! I don't know!' wailed the batarian. 'I'll tell you anything else – anything!'

'You have nothing else to offer me, Droverk.'

'But.. But… What if I told you the location of the slaver's main base?'

Shepard stopped pacing. The crew outside were beginning to cut through the door with lasers. She had less than a minute to get something out of this alien before they reached her. The regs that she had broken to do this could mean the end of her career in the military, so there was no way she could leave this cell empty-handed.

She crouched beside Droverk, her face smeared with green blood. 'Are you screwing with me?' she demanded.

'No! No, I swear!' The batarian blinked his two remaining eyes, trying to see through the blood and tears. 'I'll tell you where the base is!'

'Tell me.'

'Torfan!'

'Give me the co-ordinates.' She activated her omni-tool and offered the galaxy map screen to Droverk.

With trembling fingers he keyed in the location of Torfan. It was just a small moon – there was no way the Alliance would have discovered the batarian's base there. Shepard felt her adrenaline surge. The slavers' base!

'There,' choked Droverk. 'That's worth my life, isn't it?'

Shepard deactivated the omni-tool. The laser cutter had almost made it through the door. She had no more than a few seconds left. She clenched her fists, frustrated despite the new information. She had not learned what she had come here to find out.

The batarian began to panic, fearing that the Commander was dissatisfied. 'Please!' he started to beg again. 'That's all I know. I swear, I don't know where the slaves were taken.'

Shepard looked at him. He was a wreck, no more than minutes from death. She took her pistol from its holster and armed it, aiming it straight at Droverk's head.

'Please!' he shrieked. 'I don't know!'

Shepard smiled, her eyes devoid of humour or pleasure. 'I believe you,' she said.

She pulled the trigger.


	2. Flashback: Marie

**[Flashback: 16 years before ME1]**

******(TRIGGER WARNING: SEXUAL ABUSE)**

Time no longer meant anything to Marie. It passed in unknown increments, a perpetual and intangible movement that had no known destination. Beyond the walls of her confinement there may have existed days and nights, but not in here. In here they had no meaning. There was only the pain, the fear, the sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach that never went away. Every sound brought back unbearable flashes of horrors that threatened to repeat. Every footstep past the door was one that might bring more suffering.

Marie was numb, but she knew the pain was still inside her. She sat in the corner of the tiny room without moving, huddled with her knees up tight against her chest. For a long time she had done nothing but sit and stare, unseeing, at the floor. She could sense somewhere in her subconscious that her body was bruised and dirty, her eyes were sore, her throat was dry. She had shut all of that away. She truly believed that if she let even a fraction of those feelings out, they would destroy her utterly.

Her trance-like state was interrupted by a sound she prayed was just in her imagination. But then the door opened and she felt her heart shudder with the knowledge of what was about to happen. She didn't scream any more. She didn't cry. She didn't fight or beg or plead for mercy. She had ascended to a distant plane of existence from where she could look down upon her own suffering as if it were happening to somebody else. When the stranger entered, Marie was calm and very quiet.

He was a large man, tall, with chubby arms and a beer gut. What remained of his wiry hair was mostly grey, and it clustered around his temples without reaching the top of his head. He approached her with an expression she had come to see on many faces; deep excitement intermingled with trepidation. His bulging blue eyes engulfed her greedily. He rubbed his sweaty palms together.

'Aren't you a pretty one,' he said, in a voice that sent chills through Marie. 'What's your name, beautiful?'

Her response was automatic, conditioned to obedience.

'Marie…'

The sweaty stranger came closer, smiling like a shark.

'That's a lovely name,' he cooed. 'Come here, Marie.'

She rose on trembling legs, a wave of nausea rolling within her. Her bare feet shuffled along the floor, cold and black from the dust. The man was just a few feet away and Marie could smell the stench of alcohol on his breath. It became just another of her senses to shut down.

'Don't be scared, Marie,' the stranger whispered, reaching for her. 'I want to be your friend…'

She saw the repulsive man start to touch Marie. She watched as Marie submitted to his "friendship". Marie relived her nightmare. Marie suffered one more time. But Marie was not her.

She would never be Marie again.


	3. Flashback: Perverted Justice

**[Flashback: 16 years before ME1]**

******(TRIGGER WARNING: SEXUAL ABUSE)**

The police station was noisy. A row of youths in handcuffs filled the seats in the waiting area, most of them intoxicated or stoned, some of them crying, a few of them shouting abuse at the surrounding officers. Police staff rushed back and forth with datapads of reports, each trying to hear their private comm ear pieces above the din. Shepard watched them all numbly. Crunched up into as small a position as she could, she had her shoulders pulled in so that they wouldn't touch the people either side of her. Her scrawny arms were cuffed. She was half naked. A coat of dirt and blood marred her pale skin, and her hair was filthy. She was out of place in the seating line, different to the others. She was younger than all of them – barely thirteen – and any reasonable person would have been able to see from her frightened little face that she was a victim, not a criminal.

The man who had brought her here had not been reasonable. It was his blood on her hands and clothes – blood fairly spilled. He had been her last visitor, her last "friend". He had arrived at the run-down apartment with the intent to use her just like all the other men had. Shepard's memories of the last few hours were a blur of terror and anger. She remembered snapping. She remembered lashing out. Somehow she had reached the point where she could not bear to be used even one more time, and the man had received the full fury of her pent-up need for vengeance. She had not been aware that he was a cop.

A cop. "Serve and protect". But he had walked into her prison-like room with no human compassion, dishonouring the badge that he wore every day. He had been so angry. Shepard bore the fresh bruises of his wrath. But there was no way she could have forced herself to yield to his twisted desires, no matter the consequences. She had fully believed she was going to be killed as punishment for attacking him. Instead, he had dragged her out of the disgusting apartment, threatened the men who "owned" her with a wave of his badge, and taken her away from there. And so she had found herself at the police station. The crooked cop had turned her in for illegal solicitation of sexual services, claiming she had offered him sex and had violently resisted arrest when he revealed he was a police officer.

Shepard made no attempt to argue her innocence. So shocked and horrified by the betrayal of a man who had sworn to uphold justice, her faith in the system was shaken to its core. Nobody would believe the word of a whore child over that of a cop. So she stayed silent. It had been a long night and she had been waiting uncertainly for hours. She was too frightened to even enjoy the relief of being away from that apartment. She worried what would become of her.

The girl beside her nudged her. Shepard drew back sharply at the touch.

'What are you here for?' the teenage felon asked in a slurred voice.

Shepard buried her head her her cradled knees, unable to respond. The other girl shrugged and turned away from her. A police officer approached the waiting area and scanned the grim faces of the arrested minors.

'Marie Shepard?' he said.

She looked up at him with guarded eyes. Just the sound of a male voice was enough to make her sick inside. She prayed that he would not touch her.

'Marie?' he asked again, now focusing on her.

She nodded warily.

'Someone is here to collect you.'

A man appeared behind him, dressed in a suit and tie with a datapad in his hand. Shepard did not recognise him. She felt a rising panic. Who was he? Where was he going to take her? What was he going to do with her?

'This is Jason Chapman from social services,' the officer introduced the stranger. 'He's come to take you home.'

Chapman stepped forward and gave the girl a smile. It did nothing to ease her fears; she had seen too many smiles from strangers that brought her nothing but suffering.

'Hello, Marie,' he said gently, bending down to her level. 'We've been looking for you for five weeks. Your foster parents have been so worried.' He extended a hand. 'Are you ready to go home?'

Home. The place from which she had fled. The catalyst of her pain and misery, and the man who had altered her forever. She shook her head vehemently, tears gathering in her eyes.

'No, no,' she spoke up in a trembling voice. 'Don't take me… Please…'

'It's okay. I know you've been through a very frightening experience, Marie,' Chapman soothed. 'But it's over now. Nobody is going to take you back to the place where you were hurt. Your foster parents are waiting for you. They're going to take care of you, and tomorrow a nice lady will come to talk to you about what happened.'

'I can't,' begged Shepard. 'I can't…' She was crying, trembling, as she tried to get the words out. She wanted to tell him about her foster father. She wanted to tell him that he was the one she was afraid of. She wanted him to understand.

'She's been through a hell of a lot,' the cop said sadly. 'One of our guys found her selling her body in an alleyway down by the industrial site. From what we could tell, she's suffered some pretty bad abuse, but she won't let a doctor examine her.'

'How did she get there? Was someone pimping her?'

'No. The officer who brought her in said she was alone when she approached him. He didn't see any sign that she was working for anyone.'

He was a liar. Shepard's mind was screaming the words, but her chest was so tight that she could not make a sound. She fought for breath as the tears streamed down her cheeks.

'We've got a child therapist coming to see her tomorrow,' Chapman told the officer solemnly. 'Hopefully she'll be able to get the girl to open up.'

The cop nodded. 'Good. Nobody around here has been able to get anything coherent out of her. Poor thing…'

'She'll be all right. She's got a nice foster family who think the world of her. They'll be glad to have her back.'

Shepard crumbled inwards, unable to speak, as the police man crouched down in front of her and unlocked her handcuffs. He drew her up to her feet gently. She recoiled from his touch, still choking on her tears. Despair gripped her like a vice as she faced the unavoidable path before her. The social worker came forward.

'Come on, Marie,' he whispered, reaching out to her. 'Let's get you home…'


	4. Flashback: Alone

**[Flashback: 16 years before ME1]**

******(TRIGGER WARNING: SEXUAL ABUSE, SUICIDE)**

The funeral was over. Shepard didn't have to face the looming strangers any more, or force herself to cry just so that they would think she cared. She could escape to her bedroom and crawl beneath the duvet. She could finally sleep, knowing that he would never again come to visit her late at night with his poisonous touch and the madness in his eyes. He was gone. The house was quiet. Only Mrs Carrick remained, sleeping alone in the room down the hall. Shepard hated her for her silence. She hated her for knowing everything and doing nothing. But the real object of her disgust was no longer around, and so she felt that the world was a little brighter just for that.

And she slept. She slept so deeply that the nightmares could not even reach her. She slept better than she had in a long time. When she arose, she found that one shower was enough to make her feel clean. She didn't need to scrub her skin raw to get the filth off. She dried herself and stood before the mirror to examine her reflection. Her body had changed so much in the last year. Her hips had filled out and her legs looked more defined, her breasts were swelling to a new size. She had lost a lot of the baby fat around her face and stomach, lending a kind of maturity to her appearance. Inside, she felt like a child still, but her exterior denied it.

Once she was dressed, Shepard walked slowly out into the hallway. The house felt different, too. Everything did. It was as if an evil spell had been broken, a curse lifted, and the miserable place that she had called home for the past five years was now born anew. She wandered downstairs and looked for Mrs Carrick. The middle-aged foster mother was not in the lounge in front of the television screen like she usually was. The kitchen diner was empty, too. For some reason the lights had been left on overnight. Thinking it odd, Shepard began to search more intently. A check of every room revealed that Mrs Carrick was not in the house, but the front door was locked and her key card was in the slot. The car was parked on the balcony and was coated in a layer of frost. Shepard ventured down into the basement, ignoring her fear of the dark, confined room. It was the only place left to search.

And it was there that she found Mrs Carrick. The lady was hanging by her neck from the vent in the ceiling, colourless, limp, and still as the morning air. Shepard stared with disbelieving eyes at the horrific sight. She could not overcome her paralysing fright in order to move, even though her mind was screaming for her to get out. There was a dining chair strewn on its side on the floor – kicked away by the woman just moments before she choked to death – and an empty bottle of gin. It was clear that she had been unable to cope with the loss of her husband. Despite the way he had dominated and abused her throughout the years, Mrs Carrick's heart and soul were bound to that evil man. And now they were both gone.

Shepard's breath came rushing back to her with such force that she doubled over and began to vomit violently. Through her tears she caught one last glimpse of the lifeless face suspended before her, and then she stumbled back up the stairs as fast as she could. She fought her way to the front door, throwing up repeatedly as she tried to get it open. Cold air whipped across her face, chilling the burning of her lips, making her shiver, and she wretched once more. The door slammed shut behind her in the wind. She was locked out. But she knew that she would never step foot in that house again. She would never see those people again – the man and woman who had been her only family for so long. She was free of the pain, the cruelty, the fear, and the degradation that had filled her every waking moment since joining that "family" as a child. She was free, yes. But she was now completely alone.


	5. Flashback: Staff Lieutenant

**[Flashback: Leading to ME1]**

The cab stopped again. Rush hour close to one of the largest space ports on the planet was hell. It was frustrating for the average person, but for someone as impatient as Shepard it was infuriating. She slouched over the dashboard, scowling at the auto-pilot light, knowing that she could have been there an hour ago if New York cabs allowed manual override.

The radio was on. The music was repetitive and annoying. Shepard was on the verge of blasting it.

'Radio, next channel,' she snapped.

The inboard VI chirped its confirmation of her request and cut off the jarring music. The Galactic News replaced it.

_'…week when a memorial flame was lit on the moon of Torfan, honouring the woman of the hour, Commander Shepard. The Commander was not present at the ceremony, since she is not known for making public appearances, but almost five hundred humans were in attendance. The flame recognises Commander Shepard's courage and determination on Torfan five years ago, which led to the annihilation of the entire base of batarian slavers. It also commemorates the forty-three Alliance soldiers who gave their lives for the cause._

_'Controversy surrounds the events on Torfan. A group of protesters attempted to stop the ceremony, claiming that Commander Shepard was nothing more than a ruthless murderer. Shepard's own commanding officer at the time, one Major Kyle, has insisted on more than one occasion over the years that Shepard showed no concern for the lives of her men, which directly led to the high percentage of Alliance casualties. Batarians have also spoken up against Shepard amid allegations that the Commander ignored offers of surrender and left no batarian survivors. The Commander maintains a no-comment policy on the matter._

_'Whether Shepard is best known as "The Hero of Torfan" or "The Butcher of Torfan", one thing is for certain: her name is known throughout the galaxy.'_

Shepard sank back into her seat as the channel moved on to another news topic. It had been five years. She could still remember the names of every single Alliance soldier who died on that god-forsaken moon. She remembered the batarian slavers that were left when the base had been ravaged – the ones who had hastened to a cowardly surrender as soon as they knew they had lost the battle. She had stepped over the corpses of her own team, moved towards the cluster of slavers who had laid down their weapons and raised their hands above their heads. She had caught a glimpse of the crates that had been used to transport the human 'cargo' across the galaxy. The information she had sought during the interrogation of that batarian prisoner was never revealed. Stood before the slavers, rifle ready to go, thoughts of those missing biotic children had flashed through her mind. She would never know who bought them or why, and she would never be able to return them to their families. The ones she especially remembered were the children who had not survived the journey, their tiny bodies crammed into shipping crates, waiting to be incinerated.

Shepard remembered giving the order.

_"The Butcher of Torfan"…_

She did not regret it.

The cab pulled up to the entrance of the New York Space Port. Shepard paid the fare using her omni-tool and the doors opened. She gathered her backpack and stepped out of the vehicle. As the space port rose up to meet her in a barrage of noise and lights, she took a moment to gather her thoughts. Torfan is past. Today is a new assignment.

She headed towards the check-in terminal. The crowd surged all around her, bumping her, pushing her. She shoved her way through. It was at least ten minutes before her turn in the queue, after which she stepped up to the terminal to submit to scanning. A synthesised voice chimed:

'Welcome, Commander Shepard. Your shuttle is due for departure at docking port C-12 in twenty-six minutes. Have a pleasant trip!'

Shepard exited the terminal and made her way through the central port. It was an enormous structure, with a high domed glass ceiling and hundreds of docking bays branching off from the waiting area. Shuttles and starships from all over the galaxy were coming and going, aliens travelled freely amongst the human population, and information programmes were being broadcast in all the known languages of the galaxy. The space port had a feel of perpetual motion – nothing ever stopped, or even slowed. Voices, electronic tones, movement, lights, engines… It filled the dome like a gargantuan swarm of insects.

Following a lighted sign that read "C-12", Shepard slipped into one of the corridors away from the hub. She caught sight of the shuttle. Around it she could see a number of Alliance military personnel waiting for take-off. Mostly low-ranking soldiers, they appeared young and fresh and eager to begin their new assignment. Some of them were chatting, making introductions and small-talk, while others were having a final smoke before departure. The soldier in charge of the unit was diligently logging all the names in his omni-tool and double checking all the details. Shepard gave a quick touch on her omni-tool screen, wanting to remind herself of the name she had been given as her rendezvous contact. Staff Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko. That must be him.

She approached the shuttle and noticed a few of the soldiers had stopped talking. Most of them were watching her. The Lieutenant had his back to her, but he seemed to realise something was going on and he turned around. Shepard ignored the other crewmen and stepped up to him. With a crisp salute she said:

'Staff Lieutenant Alenko? Commander Shepard, the new XO.'

Alenko could have been a poster boy for the Alliance. He was tall, athletic, clean cut, and had the rigid posture of a seasoned brown-noser. The sharp salute that he gave Shepard might have taken out somebody's eye.

'Commander,' he responded stiffly. 'All but one crewman are present accounted for. ETD sixteen minutes.'

'At ease, Lieutenant.' Shepard watched him relax approximately two muscles. _Was I ever this green?_

Shepard became aware that some chatter had erupted behind Alenko. The soldiers were engaged in excited whispers as they stared at her, like school children who had just seen a comic book superhero come to life. Alenko turned to his men.

'Ten-hut!' he barked.

The soldiers jumped to attention, saluting Commander Shepard.

Alenko gave her an apologetic smile. 'You'll have to excuse them, Commander,' he said. 'It's just that we've – uh – _they've_ been looking forward to meeting you in the flesh.'

'Is that right?' replied Shepard. She folded her arms and leaned back on her hip casually. 'Relax, boys,' she told them. 'I'm not big on superficial protocol.'

Trying to promote a more laid-back atmosphere, she walked up to each of the crewmen and shook hands with them. One of them was leaking smoke from the corner of his mouth. She gave him a friendly smile.

'Corporal,' she addressed him gently, 'spit that cigarette out and smoke it before it starts smoking you.'

The Corporal spluttered and released his burning stub. He touched his mouth in pain. 'Yes, ma'am,' he said uncertainly. 'Thank you, ma'am.' He fished out a fresh cigarette from his pocket and lit it, but still looked hesitant.

The soldiers were still standing to attention, watching her with frozen expressions that ranged between terror and awe. Shepard sighed.

'At ease,' she commanded them. 'Just… go back to what you were doing.'

Shepard turned away from the group and back to Lieutenant Alenko. By the look on his face it was evident that he was as much a fan as the others were. That surprised her. She had immediately pegged him as one of those 'to-the-letter' marines who would strongly disapprove of her chequered service record.

'So,' she began conversationally. 'Did you have a look at the _Normandy_'s specs?'

'Uh, yes ma'am,' said Alenko. 'She's an impressive ship.'

Shepard swung her backpack down from her shoulder and placed it on the ground in front of her. She rolled her shoulders back to loosen them up. Vessels were taking off from the bays around them, headed for places all over the galaxy. Shepard watched them for a few moments.

'I was surprised when I heard it was an all-human crew,' Alenko spoke up, drawing her back to earth. 'It bodes well for humanity's future with the Council if they're willing to trust us with this project.'

'Yes,' agreed Shepard. 'They're letting humans play with their expensive new toy. Even putting a human Captain in charge. It's big.'

Alenko paused to think for a moment. There was an uncomfortable silence before he ventured: 'I hear Captain Anderson is well respected by the Council.'

Captain Anderson… Shepard could not resist a nostalgic smile. He was a fine officer, a brave soldier, and a good friend. Shepard could admit, if only to herself, that she had idolised him somewhat as a youth. To have been chosen as his Executive Officer aboard the latest Alliance prototype vessel was a great honour. She could not help but wonder whether she would have been offered such a position if Anderson hadn't been given a say in the decision. Unlike Anderson, Shepard was not well respected by the Council. In fact, she had annoyed them on more than one occasion. Politicians tended to dislike her, and the feeling was mutual.

'You've served with Captain Anderson before, haven't you, Commander?' said Alenko, setting his omni-tool on hibernate.

'I have,' replied Shepard. 'He's just like they portray him in the vids. The man's a goddamn action hero.'

Alenko thought for a moment as he looked her over. The Commander, unlike Anderson, was very different to what he had imagined. The news items and the vids had painted Shepard as some kind of warrior goddess – a tall, masculine woman with dark eyes and powerful shoulders, who never cracked a smile and never released a sniff of weakness. He had heard her voice on the radio before, and it had been full of lustre and authority. She was the epitome of strength and confidence to women everywhere.

The Shepard who stood before him now was not like that. She was surprisingly slender – one could almost say petite – and had smooth, porcelain skin. Beneath a short cluster of wavy black hair she had little sprawling ears. Her eyes were a gentle hazel colour and rimmed with thick black lashes, while her nose and mouth were positively dainty. In her short-sleeved Alliance crew shirt her white arms hinted at muscularity, but were deceptively skinny. Her small hands looked like they had never grasped a weapon before.

The conversation had gone stagnant. Shepard wasn't a chatty person anyway, but this was just damn uncomfortable. The marines were no longer laughing and talking, and the Staff Lieutenant seemed to be watching her whilst pretending to be taking in the scenery. She could feel all eyes boring into her. All of her flaws and virtues were being weighed and considered by half a dozen nervous subordinates.

She cleared her throat. 'I'm going to get settled in the shuttle,' she announced. 'I'll see you aboard.'

Gravity lightened considerably as she retreated up the gangway. A line of cigarettes appeared as if out of nowhere. Lieutenant Alenko allowed himself a deep sigh of relief. He had expected to be nervous meeting the infamous Commander Shepard, but the real thing felt like being caught in a choke hold. Perhaps it was her brutal reputation. Or maybe it was like some kind of "star-struck" effect.

'It's weird how she's not, like, a butch woman,' considered one of the marines, staring at the shuttle doors. 'You'd think a war hero like that'd be manly. Or at least muscular.'

Another voiced his agreement. 'Yeah, did you see her arms? Looks like they could snap just like that.'

Alenko nodded contemplatively. 'She's certainly smaller without the armour,' he said.

'Kind of cute,' ventured one.

'Yeah,' another seconded the motion. 'I'd hit that.'

'Military girls don't do it for me,' said one of them. He took a drag of his cigarette as he gazed philosophically at the sky. 'See, girls with the nice big guns don't go military, 'cause it'd throw off their balance in battle.'

A couple of the soldiers laughed. One rode the joke a little further: 'Yeah, looks like Shepard traded in her bazookas for a couple of pistols!'

'Oh! Up top, Crosby!' The men slapped hands.

'The rest of her equipment is pretty fine, though,' bantered another. 'I'd follow her just for the view. Did you get a look at that tight little-'

'All right, that's enough,' interrupted Alenko. 'Soldiers, that's our commanding officer. Show some respect.'

'Sorry, sir.'

The last crewman arrived with a few minutes to go. He introduced himself to the Lieutenant and the marines, and then he was logged in by Alenko. The shuttle was almost ready for departure. Gathering their belongings and stubbing out their cigarettes, the men made their way up into the shuttle. It was a medium size passenger vessel that was marked belonging to the _Normandy_, painted in standard Alliance grey and red.

Inside they found Commander Shepard seated at one end of the starboard row of chairs, slouched over a datapad, reading. Alenko ushered his unit into the passenger area, where they filled up the two rows beneath the windows. They left him a space beside the Commander. Shepard did not look up as Alenko sat down beside her. After a few moments the shuttle doors slid shut. A voice over the comm system sounded:

'Lieutenant Alenko, are we ready for take-off?'

Alenko touched the comm button on the shuttle wall. 'Aye, we're all set.'

The engines kicked into action. Vibrations shook the vessel, but were soon softened by the motion dampeners. Above the cold grey walls the red light turned white, telling the passengers that the doors were secure and the vessel was in motion. They felt the pull of gravity as they were launched in the opposite direction to its force. The shuttle climbed into the air, gliding fluidly through the space port traffic as it headed for the earth's orbit. The only sound was the hum of the engine.

Shepard scrolled down the screen of her datapad. The assignment didn't make sense to her. She was to be transported to the _SSV Normandy_, a prototype Alliance frigate, where she would serve as the Executive Officer under Captain Anderson. The _Normandy_ would be taken on its maiden voyage – a test run to Eden Prime – during which the state-of-the-art stealth system would be tested and analysed. Up until that point it was straight forward. The extra details were confusing. The _Normandy_was co-designed by the turians – which was odd, considering the not-so-distant war between turians and humans – and backed financially by the Citadel Council. In other words, the most important species in Council space were working together for the first time to create a special stealth vessel, and were then handing it over to the humans.

It was good that the races were finally cooperating, what with all the interspecies disputes, but there was something strange about the whole thing. The mission to Eden Prime should take no longer than a day to complete, not including the systems analysis and reports. A skeleton crew could easily have handled the assignment. However, she had a full crew complement, which included some of the most decorated and noteworthy soldiers in the Alliance. Why such a force? Why send the likes of Anderson and Shepard on such a menial assignment? And why was Eden Prime, not a military base, the destination for the test run?

The fact that the _Normandy_'s main feature was her innovative stealth drive made Shepard think it had something to do with covert operations. The technology to appear invisible to sensors and tracking devices was certainly designed with secrecy in mind. But espionage work on Eden Prime? The colony was practically a utopia – a human haven on the border of the Terminus Systems that was home to peaceful families, archaeologists, and farmers. It didn't add up.

She had re-read the assignment rundown a dozen times now. No new information was presenting itself. Shepard deactivated the datapad and slipped it into her backpack. She leaned back in the passenger chair. The area was silent. There were eight Alliance marines seated on the benches, facing one another, and not one of them was making a sound. Shepard got the feeling that they were uncertain in her presence. Sizing up a new commanding officer was always tricky; you'd have to test the air to find out whether he was a strict type or if there was some room for casualness. When it came to Shepard, this was intensified by the fact that she was an infamous war hero with a reputation for doing very nasty things to people.

She cracked her knuckles. The sound set nerves rattling. It was time to loosen up the new recruits. She broke the silence with:

'So, my "pistols" don't impress you, Mr Crosby?'

The air turned cold.

If there was a level of quiet beyond silence, this was it. Private Crosby stared at the Commander with wide eyes, like a deer caught in headlights. The others didn't know where to look. Shepard crossed on leg over her knee and leaned back calmly. Her face was expressionless.

'Uh,' tried Crosby, after several stunned moments. 'You… heard that, Commander?'

Shepard pinned him with her gaze. 'You know, Crosby,' she said slowly, 'you'd be surprised what I could do with just a pair of pistols…'

It was either a death threat or a double entendre. Alenko, who was sitting right next to Shepard, seemed to have stopped breathing. None of the marines knew what to say or do. After letting them squirm for a few seconds, Shepard let her face break into a grin.

'Relax, guys,' she said, almost laughing. 'I'm kidding. I don't care about your dirty jokes and friendly ribbing. And I doubt I'm the first female marine to have her breasts measured by the troops.'

'Sorry, Commander,' said Alenko with all seriousness. 'We didn't mean to disrespect you.'

Shepard waved his apology away with a smile. 'Forget about it, Lieutenant. I like a bit of spunk in my soldiers.'

'Don't get me wrong, ma'am,' explained Crosby, 'ain't nothing wrong with your looks.'

'Thanks, Crosby. You're a real Casanova.'

The marines laughed. All but Alenko, who still looked mortified. There was still an air of anxiety in the cramped shuttle. Shepard was intent on getting past it as soon as possible. If the crew were uncomfortable with their commanding officer, their performance would suffer. She had seen it happen before – usually with male subordinates. Men always seemed to be intimidated by her. Perhaps that was the reason she hadn't had a date in a very long time…

'We've got a couple of hours to kill,' she said reflectively. 'Let's get to know each other a little. I like to know my crew.' She gestured to the soldier seated directly across from her. 'Chase, right?'

Private Chase, a young blonde man with large protruding ears, sat up straight. 'Yes, ma'am.'

'Where are you from, Private?'

Chase cleared his throat nervously. 'Wisconsin, ma'am.'

'Got family there?'

'Yes, ma'am. My parents and sisters.'

'Are you the big brother?'

'Yes, ma'am. They look up to me. Made me think I should join the Alliance to be … a good role model to them. And to protect them.'

'That's a nice motive, Private. I'm sure your sisters really admire you.'

'Thank you, ma'am.'

Shepard turned her attention to the other marines. 'Anyone from New York?' She nodded as a few of the men indicated that they were. 'Yeah, me too. How about you, Alenko?' she asked the quiet Lieutenant.

'Uh, Canada, ma'am.'

'Family there?'

'My mom. Dad's in the Alliance.'

'I've never heard anything about your family, Commander Shepard,' said one of the soldiers, one Shepard remembered from the introductions as Barrett. 'Your parents aren't military?'

The man next to him gave him a shove in the ribs.

'What?' hissed Barrett.

'They're dead, you moron,' his comrade reminded him.

'Oh! Sorry, Commander!'

Shepard shrugged. 'No problem, Barrett. I never knew them.'

'You got any other family?' inquired young Crosby. 'Like who raised you?'

'Nah,' replied the Commander, rubbing the back of her neck absently. 'Raised myself.'

'Haven't you guys seen the bio vids?' the other marine asked the rest of them. 'The Commander grew up on the streets of New York City, fighting to survive. She broke away from the gang lifestyle to enlist in the Alliance when she was a teen. Inspired young people all over Earth.'

Shepard grimaced. Nothing like the galaxy knowing your entire life story. 'Yeah,' she said, a little uncomfortable. 'It's not as dramatic as it sounds. Believe me.'

'Gladstone is a huge fan, Commander,' one of the guys informed Shepard, half mockingly. 'He knows all about you. He's got a clip of your voice as a message tone on his omni-tool.'

The crew sniggered as Gladstone flushed scarlet and punched the snitch in the shoulder.

'… And a promotional holo of you in his footlocker!'

'Shut _up_!'

Shepard smiled as the shuttle filled with laughter. 'In that case,' she said, with a naughty glint in her eye, 'Gladstone, how would you like an advance copy of the new "Babes of the Alliance" calendar? I'm Miss August.'

Shock exploded with the sudden rush of fervent imaginations. One of the soldiers jump-started his omni-tool in a race to find details. Lieutenant Alenko stared at Shepard in alarm.

'You're what?'

'Straight up, Commander?' asked Barrett. 'You posed for a girly calendar?'

'She's kidding,' Crosby said, grinning. 'You are, right?'

'Hell yes!' laughed Shepard. 'Of course I'm kidding!'

A groan rose from the ranks. Poor Gladstone looked like a child who had just been told that Santa Claus didn't exist. For everyone else there was a combination of amusement and relief – the thought of their honoured war hero stripping off for the general public was unnerving.

'You got us going there, Commander,' chided Barrett. 'Good one.'

'Thanks,' said Shepard. She winked at the guys. 'Flattered that you'd believe I could be in it.'

The remaining couple of hours passed easily. A few rounds of laughs had a way of bringing out people's natural personalities. Shepard and the men chatted about Eden Prime, the _Normandy_, and related some tales of former missions. Barrett passed around a flask of black coffee, and Chase shared the cookies his little sister had baked for his trip. Alenko was by far the least talkative of the group; he added little to the conversation and only spoke when he was directly asked a question. But there was enough chatter around without him, so the men hardly noticed.

Shepard was asked about her experiences on Torfan. She had expected it would come up sooner or later. Everyone knew the official story, but the guys wanted her personal views on what had happened. Most of them harboured a grudge against the batarians for the Skyllian Blitz and the slaver groups, making them heavily biased towards Shepard's position. They hailed her as a hero for wiping out the batarians in the Torfan base, vowing that they would have done the same in the face of the surrender of such creatures. No mercy for murderers and terrorists. That was the general consensus.

The animated discussion about the evils of the batarian race led to the topic of the Council races. The asari were a popular favourite, being an all-female species with a tendency towards sexual promiscuity. Asari dominated the adult industry – strippers, exotic dancers, prostitutes, escorts, and porn-stars. Male humans could not resist them. The fact that they had scaly blue skin and hairless tendrils protruding from their scalp did not seem to make a difference. Shepard found that bizarre – but then, she was a woman.

The salarians were one of the oldest Council races. They were something of a joke to humans. They looked almost like the original earth idea of aliens – the skinny grey men with the bobble heads, huge eyes and spindly fingers – but with brighter skin and larger mouths. When salarians spoke it sounded like human voices that had been increased to a higher pitch and speed. Added to the fact that salarians were incredibly intelligent and prone to eccentricity, they always served to amuse the humans.

The other important Council race was turian. Only decades had passed since the First Contact War in which these aliens fought humanity over galactic rights. Tensions were still high and prejudice was still rife. Turians were not naturally a very likeable people; they tended to be severe and opinionated, unyielding, and often arrogant. Humans – who were not known for their patience – clashed with them easily. Unfortunately for the humans, the turian military was the strongest in the galaxy, and the creatures were built like bipedal dragons encased in armour. It was unwise to pick a fight with them.

'My grandfather fought in the First Contact War,' Corporal Barrett told the crew. 'He said those turians are a bitch to kill.'

'Unless you got a grenade launcher,' one of the marines commented.

Shepard shook her head. 'Nah, I've killed turians without too much trouble. The whole body is packed in armour, but they're not big on headgear.' She shrugged. 'Clean shot between the eyes and they go down like anyone else.'

'You're way too young to have been in the First Contact War,' said one soldier, leaning forward to appraise Shepard. 'When did you get to fight turians?'

Before Shepard could reply, her fan Private Gladstone spoke up: 'Commander Shepard spent a lot of her career tracking down pirates and slave traders. Some of the mercenaries she intercepted were turians.'

The others looked to Shepard for confirmation. She smiled, slightly embarrassed.

'Yeah,' she said simply.

'I hate turians,' announced young Crosby. 'In my opinion, they're as bad as the batarians.' He took a sip of the lukewarm coffee.

'I can't believe we're working with those arrogant bastards on this project,' agreed another. 'The Alliance could have built the _Normandy_ on our own – used it to advance our own cause. Now we play nice with turians? Never thought I'd see the day.'

'It's a good thing that the races are working together,' said Lieutenant Alenko all of a sudden. Everyone looked at him. There was conviction in his eyes, but his voice softened self-consciously as the attention fell upon him. 'Turians, asari, salarians, humans, all working on one project for the advancement of everyone. It's a big step towards galactic peace.'

There was a brief silence while the marines thought about this. It was enough of a surprise that the Lieutenant had voiced his opinion. One of the crew came up with a rebuttal:

'All due respect, sir, if we get galactic peace, we'd all be out of a job.'

Alenko shifted in his chair slightly. 'Well… Would that be a bad thing?'

Shepard studied the Lieutenant's profile from her seat beside him. He seemed to genuinely believe what he was saying, although he was clearly uncomfortable expressing himself in public. She had been right in her first assumptions about him; he was so green you could get grass stains from shaking his hand. Slightly condescendingly, Shepard said to him:

'You believe in galactic peace, Lieutenant?' She smirked. 'I wouldn't hold my breath. Humans only stopped killing each other when they found a new species to kill.'

Alenko met her gaze, if only for a split second. 'I'm not naïve, although I probably sound it.' He looked down at the floor of the shuttle. 'It's not really about whether peace is attainable or not. I just think that if people stop believing in the _possibility_ of peace, then they've got no reason to be peaceable.'

It was a logical answer. Shepard nodded slowly. 'I get it,' she said. 'Like a wounded soldier – if he holds on to the unlikely hope of survival, then the will power might be enough to keep him alive…'

'Exactly.'

'Unless the injuries are too severe,' she pointed out.

'Yeah, well, just so long as the soldier doesn't know that, ma'am.'

Shepard smiled. Insightful. It wasn't often she heard a realistic notion from an optimist. Shepard tended to have more respect for cynical people – those who saw the universe in all its ugliness, never expecting to find beauty. Then, at least, they would know the value of beauty if they ever saw it. She wondered what Alenko saw when he looked out on the big black expanse.

The shuttle flew on. Conversation was less serious after that. There were a few more jokes about Gladstone's Shepard fixation, some friendly boasts about future poker games, and a lurid discussion on asari physiology. Lieutenant Alenko stayed mostly quiet. Shepard continued to hold her own with the rambunctious young marines, laughing and joking and sharing stories. The journey passed easily, and soon the view from the window was filled with an amazing sight.

Painted against the black of space with an aura of stars, the _SSV Normandy_ radiated grace and power. She was an impressive ship. The pride of the Alliance, a state-of-the-art deep scout frigate with the most advanced stealth technology ever devised; she was breathtaking. It was not her size that caught the eye, nor were her impressive specifications her most fascinating feature. It was her sleek, shimmering body, the perfect curve of her spine, the ebony wings that swept back like those of a preying hawk. Her sharp nose cut through space like an arrowhead, defying anything to stand in her way. Named after the historical battle of _Normandy_, she represented racial cooperation, the best of each world, and the liberation of the galaxy.

It was love at first sight for Shepard. Her eyes scaled the vessel through the shuttle window, exploring every inch of the silver and black hull. Her fellow passengers were chatting about something or another, but Shepard's ears had long since shut down. Her focus was the _Normandy_. She could see the docking port doors sliding open in preparation for the shuttle's arrival. Even the opening of the doors was fascinating. As the small passenger vessel drifted towards the port, the hum of the thrusters beginning to soften, Shepard craned her neck to see the ship's interior. A sudden jolt was followed by the grinding of the docking clamps, and then the airlock light flashed green above the shuttle door.

The marines gathered their belongings and climbed to their feet. Shepard stood up, staring into the ship's airlock, as she loaded her pack onto her shoulder.

'She's beautiful,' said a quiet voice behind her.

Shepard glanced at the Lieutenant, who was gazing at the _Normandy_ with wide, admiring eyes.

'My thoughts exactly, Lieutenant…'

The door slid open. The soldiers held back for Shepard to go through first. She took two steps and she was in the _Normandy's_ airlock. She felt the crewmen move in beside her, and then he closed the shuttle door behind them. A woman's voice, so natural, and yet belonging to a machine, rose from the comm speakers:

'Airlock secure. Decontamination in progress.'

Shepard felt like she was meeting someone very important for the first time. The sound of the_Normandy's_ computer's voice enveloped her senses, along with the gentle thrum of the ship's engine like a heart beating.

_Nice to meet you_, she whispered in the privacy of her mind, staring through the white decontamination beam with unseeing eyes. _My name is Shepard. I'll take good care of you, girl._

As if responding to the unspoken greeting, the ship's voice chimed: 'Decontamination complete. Welcome aboard.'


	6. Flashback: News Flash

NYC News Network - October 3, 2168

_**MYSTERIOUS KILLINGS OF SEX TRAFFICKERS**_

_Last night police uncovered a den of sex traffickers but, in a bizarre twist, found all perpetrators dead upon arrival. Four men and two women had been shot to death, and all sex slaves had disappeared. The scene showed evidence of forced entry, as well as broken restraints in the room of each slave. Investigators are currently searching for clues as to the identity of the vigilante killer, but so far they have no leads._


	7. Flashback: The Damage is Done

**[Flashback: 16 years before ME1]**

******(TRIGGER WARNING: SEXUAL ABUSE)**

Rain beat down on the steel stairwell above Shepard's head, the only sound in the cramped alleyway. Her unseeing eyes were staring at the ground beyond her meagre shelter, at the raindrops adding to the puddles in tiny splashes, and at the trail of crimson that was being washed down into the gutter. The child beside her had not moved nor spoken. Occasional sniffles told Shepard that she was still crying - had been for over an hour now. The pistol was still clenched tightly in Shepard's slender hand, useless with all its clips spent, but somehow it felt like the only thing in the world that could protect her.

Gloom overtook the waterlogged alleyway as the sun went down. Shepard could no longer see the blood stains on her hands and clothing. Eventually she heard the chattering of teeth coming from the young girl huddled next to her. Shepard looked at her for the first time since taking refuge beneath the stairwell. The little thing was hugging herself in an effort to keep warm, dressed only in her underwear, her bare feet caked with mud. Wordlessly, Shepard pulled off her own jacket and draped it over the child's trembling shoulders.

None of the other girls had remained. They all had families and homes to return to, people who were worried about them. But this child - she could barely be ten years old - had followed Shepard away from the brothel, all the way to her crude abode in the dark alley between the pawn shop and the condemned apartment building. She had not spoken since the rescue. Neither of them had. The thought of a girl so young having suffered what she had suffered herself only months ago made Shepard feel sick to her stomach. Even a few years older as she was, Shepard could not purge the memories from her mind, could not unsee those grisly scenes. How must it be affecting the child?

Adjusting her grip on the pistol to alleviate some of the ache that she'd realised was setting in, the dark-haired girl glanced at the little one.

"Do you have family?" her voice seeped into the rain.

The child shook her head. Her filthy auburn hair was plastered to her cheeks with rain and tears.

"Where are you from?" Shepard asked her. "Where's your home?"

Barely louder than a squeak, the reply came: "I don't know…"

"Do you know how long you were… at that place?"

Another shake of the head.

Shepard sighed. The kid was traumatised - and, judging from the bruising she'd seen on her body, injured. She did not understand how grown men could do such things to one so small and defenceless. A stubborn girl like Shepard, who had known abuse and violation long before the men had taken her, had at least been able to fight. It had taken them two days and nights to break her, for her to submit to their will. This child had probably been too frightened and inexperienced to even understand what they wanted with her.

"It's okay," she whispered, laying a hand on her shivering arm. When the child flinched, Shepard drew her hand away. "It's okay now," she repeated gently. "They won't hurt you again."

For the first time, the tearful blue eyes looked up at her.

"Because you hurt them?"

Shepard's fingers tightened around the butt of her pistol. Her gaze returned to the ripples of rain upon the puddles.

"Yes," she replied quietly.


	8. Flashback: Thanks to Cerberus

**[Flashback: ME2]**

Of all the people who could have found her body. Cerberus. The thought had crossed Mercy's mind that she might have preferred to stay dead.

_Fact is: you're not dead, _she told herself, as she scowled at a massive Cerberus logo emblazoned on the wall of the CIC. She didn't trust The Illusive Man for one second, and her ship was full of goddamn Cerberus, but she was alive. And the arrangement was only temporary. _Think of it as using them for their funds and resources in order to get to the Collectors._ She didn't care what that slippery bastard's true agenda was, because hers was the only one that mattered.

The data completed its transfer from the terminal to her data pad and there was a sound of confirmation. Having been slouched lazily over the terminal, Mercy pushed herself up from her elbows and moved away. She avoided the intense stare of the Yeoman (_that woman creeps the shit out of me…_) and headed for the cockpit.

Mercy smiled a little as she spotted Joker. _So good to have a familiar face amid all this madness._ She came up behind him and gave him a friendly swipe of his hat.

'Hey!' the young pilot protested as the beak of his hat fell in front of his eyes. 'Oh, yeah, _real_ smart idea, Shepard: obscure the vision of the guy _driving the ship_…'

Mercy laughed and dropped down into the co-pilot seat beside him, data pad in hand. 'Aww, you can't stay mad at me, Joker,' she mocked. 'I know you missed me when I was dead.'

'You can only play the "I was dead" card so many times…'

She took a look at the data pad. There were three more dossiers after the salarian. Picking up a squaddie from a plague quarantine area wasn't exactly a picnic, but if he was as useful as The Illusive Man said he was, it would be worth the effort. Besides, he was just about the only person on the ship that was half likable (Joker and Chakwas excluded, of course). Mercy gave a huff of displeasure at the thought.

'If only you were fit to join the ground team,' she said to Joker. 'I'd much rather have you at my back than that… lab-constructed catsuit and the gun for hire.'

'Uh, for the record: I'm a big fan of the catsuit… Person inside it, not so much.' He shrugged. 'But Jacob's an okay guy.'

'Yeah, maybe… I just…'

'Might I suggest,' chimed an electronic voice, 'that you spend some time getting to know Miss Lawson, Shepard, in order to improve colleague relations and increase efficiency?'

Mercy shot Joker a look. Joker nodded and touched a control. A bleep sounded from EDI's display and flashed up the word: "MUTED". They both leaned back in their chairs smugly.


	9. Flashback: Butcher

_Dead. All of them._ Their tiny bodies crammed into shipping crates the way you wouldn't even transport animals. There was a stench of urine and feces, scratch marks on the walls - horrific signs that those children had been alive in there not long ago. Stood at the entrance of one of the crates, Shepard felt her stomach lurch as she saw two of the limp figures tangled together in fearful embrace. The smallest could have been no older than seven. Revulsion and rage battled within Shepard, bringing tears to her eyes. She could not look away.

The chase ended here on Torfan. The slavers had surrendered. Their cargo was worthless. Their lives were all they had left, and they begged for them like dogs. In the darkness of her mind Shepard heard the voice of the man back on Mindoir: "You have to find them. Please…" The light dying from his eyes as he clutched desperately at Shepard's hand.

Down the barrel of her rifle she looked from the grey corpses to the throng of disarmed batarian captives. Behind her the soldiers awaited orders to gather the prisoners. It took Shepard only a few moments to make a decision.

"Do you have the slavers?" she heard Major Kyle call over the comm. "Where are they?"

_Dead,_ her mind whispered. _All of them._


	10. Flashback: Nihlus

**[Flashback: Beginning of ME1]**

The interior of the _Normandy_ was unlike any Alliance vessel Shepard had ever been on. The layout followed the turian tradition of placing the command deck behind the crew stations, allowing the person in command to oversee all activities easily. Alliance ships usually had the Captain positioned at the front of the deck, not unlike a figurehead. The_Normandy_'s design was far more practical. Shepard approved.

She walked out onto the main deck, passing between monitoring stations and operation consoles on either side. Almost every seat was filled. White cat's eyes shone beneath Shepard's feet as she proceeded, lighting her path in a hallowed welcome. They led down towards the Combat Information Centre – the CIC – at the aft of the deck, where all the big decisions were made. The CIC was circular, with a rim of shining consoles manned by the top officers. A ramp led up to the three-dimensional galaxy map, located in the centre of the circle, headed by a platform which would be used by the Captain during the assignment. From that vantage point the Captain would have an excellent view of all systems, command deck personnel, and the holographic map.

The navigation officers saluted as Shepard passed, and she nodded at each of them. She passed a set of armed guards posted at either side of the door that led to the lower decks. They opened the door for her with a respectable sign of attention. The crewmen who had arrived with Shepard had disappeared into the ship to prepare to man their posts. The Commander strode alone towards the Captain's cabin. She knew the layout already – the schematics had been sent to her in advance – and so she did not need to ask for directions. But she did slow to admire the view.

The habitation deck was teeming with noise and movement. Its open-plan design allowed easy views of the mess area, the elevator, the wash rooms, the med-bay, and the collection of sleeper pods that lined the far passageway. Long tables stood in the centre of the deck, seating dozens of crewmen who were getting acquainted over their morning coffee. The air was abuzz with excitement. None of the Alliance soldiers had ever been on such a vessel before. It would not be long before they would be called to their stations, and the _Normandy_ would begin her maiden voyage.

The Captain's cabin door was located on the port side of the deck. Shepard came to stop outside it, and placed her palm on the caller panel. She waited for the response. After a moment the door hissed open. Shepard straightened up and then marched into the cabin, ready to meet her old friend and hero.

Instead, she came face to face with a huge, menacing turian. The face was like the bare skull of a dragon, but blood red, with white war markings streaked across its ridges. Black cat's eyes glimmered in the light, fixed on Shepard. Barrel-chested, armoured in black and red, he stood so fearsome that Shepard almost drew her weapon.

Taken aback, she stopped. 'Who are you?' she demanded.

The turian cocked his head slightly. 'Commander Shepard,' he said. He moved towards the Commander, his plated shoulders towering over her head. Shepard felt threatened, but refused to show it. She crossed her arms.

'No,' she said slowly. 'That's _my_ name.'

The turian was not amused. The black depths of his eye sockets sucked Shepard in, mesmerising her with a tiny pinpoint of light in each one. She felt a chill come over her. If turians had a Devil, then she'd wager he looked like this guy. Tearing her eyes away from the reptilian creature, Shepard scanned the room. No sign of the Captain. She met that black gaze again.

'Where's Captain Anderson?' she asked.

'He will be here shortly,' came the reply. The turian stopped just a few inches away from her and looked down at her with probing eyes. 'I am Nihlus Kryik. Council Special Tactics and Reconnaissance.'

'A Spectre?'

SpecTRE. An elite group of agents working for the Council. Shepard was impressed. Spectres were rare, since very few had the skills required for the position. Selected by the Citadel Council, the Spectres were made up of turian and asari agents who had proven themselves beyond usual soldiers. They were the right hand of the Council, the ones who were called in to fix the big problems. Whoever this Nihlus Kryik was, he was someone to be taken seriously.

'Yes,' answered Nihlus.

'I wasn't told you would be joining us.'

The turian Spectre nodded. 'It was a last minute change.'

She hoped he was the only alien on board – human soldiers weren't too comfortable with other species. Any more surprises would unnerve the crew.

'Captain Anderson is still in command, I assume?' she said.

'Yes.'

'So you are here as … an observer?'

Before she could get a reply, the door to the Captain's cabin opened. Shepard glanced back to see a man enter. The blue Alliance officer's uniform set off his dark brown skin, fitted to a trim and muscular form. He had a serious face, thin lips and a wrinkled brow, underneath which large brown eyes glinted with the experience of many battles. He had aged well, Shepard noticed. He walked with the same strength and determination that she remembered, and when he smiled at her she recalled the young man who had inspired her many years ago.

'Captain Anderson,' she breathed, meeting him with a firm handshake. 'It's been too long, sir.'

'Agreed,' said the Captain. He gripped her shoulder and looked her over as a grandfather would a growing grandchild. 'It's good to see you again, Lieutenant – ah, I should say "Commander" now.'

'Thanks for the recommendation, Captain. And for this opportunity aboard the_Normandy_.'

'No one I'd rather have as my XO.'

'I appreciate it, sir.'

Captain Anderson moved past Shepard towards the silent turian. 'Nihlus,' he addressed him, 'I see you've met our Commander Shepard.'

Nihlus inclined his head slightly.

'Nihlus is here on Council business,' Anderson explained to Shepard. 'This is their project, too, after all.'

Shepard glanced between the men. The tense silence was very telling. Something was being held back, she could smell it.

'I'm surprised they chose to send a Spectre,' she said carefully, watching for a reaction. 'Don't they usually have more … important assignments?'

Anderson smiled, a little nervously. 'This is an important project, Commander,' he replied. 'And we are honoured to have Nihlus with us on it.' He began to usher her towards the door. 'We hit the relay in an hour, so we need to make sure all systems are ready and all crewmen are accounted for. I want you to check in on the Chief Engineer and the Flight Lieutenant to make sure we'll be good to go.'

'Yes, sir,' said Shepard. She reached the exit and turned to face Anderson. 'We'll be ready.' She knew that he was keeping something from her, but she wanted him to know that she could handle it. If something more serious was going on, then she would not let him down. 'No matter what, Captain,' she added.

Anderson caught her meaning. He nodded, confident in the truth of her assurance, dark eyes very solemn. 'Dismissed.'

Shepard heard the door slide into lock behind her. She felt uneasy. The Normandy was heading into something bigger than any of the crew knew. Whatever was going on, Anderson had not felt comfortable to include her in the know-how. That was what bothered her most. He knew he could trust her – they had served together more than once, and she would go as far as to call them friends. She stared out across the mess, her eyes unfocused, all the sounds of chatter mingling into white noise behind her mind. Seconds passed. Shepard blinked and realised that some of the guards were watching her. She had to put the questions aside for now and trust Anderson the way she wanted him to trust her. If he was keeping something important from her, then he must have a good reason. She had to focus on her job.

She raised her omni-tool and took a moment to network it with the ship's systems. Static consoles were often inconvenient, so Shepard preferred to have access to data on-the-go where possible. A high-tech OT was just about the only thing Shepard ever spent credits on. It was a gadget that she couldn't live without. Its holographic interface encircled her arm in an amber halo, responding to the touch of her fingertips with little flashes of green and white. A notification popped up, informing Shepard that the network link had been created and that she was authorised to view the ship's reports and files. She requested an update on the current crew headcount. Every crewman was aboard and ready to go. Shepard noticed, however, that Nihlus, the Spectre, was not included in the list.

The Commander frowned, becoming increasingly dubious about this whole situation. She glanced over at the luggage area beyond the mess and spotted the Staff Lieutenant unpacking his belongings into one of the footlockers. Keeping the personnel list on-screen, she brought it over to him. Lieutenant Alenko finished unpacking, encrypted his locker, and stood up.

'Alenko,' Shepard addressed him, still frowning.

The Staff Lieutenant turned. He saw that it was his commanding officer and straightened quickly.

'Commander,' he said. 'Is there something you need, ma'am?'

'Any info about a Council Spectre joining us?' she asked.

Alenko seemed surprised. 'A Spectre? No, ma'am, I haven't heard of any non-Alliance personnel being on board.'

'Haven't you seen him? Huge turian guy. Looks like the Devil.'

'Hah.' It was brief, nervous laugh. 'No, ma'am. Maybe he's here to check on the project before we begin.'

'No, he's here for the whole mission. I just spoke to the Captain.'

'Well… I guess, since this is the first time the human Alliance has collaborated with the Council races on something like this, they must have sent him along to keep an eye on things for them.'

Shepard frowned and said nothing. The words: "Special Tactics and Reconnaissance" were flashing before her mind's eye. An elite operative sent to observe a simple test flight? It didn't add up. But she decided not to involve the crew in her suspicions for now. She would let Anderson play this the way he thought best. If he was keeping quiet about the situation, then she was obligated to do the same.

She cancelled the open file on her OT and let the orange light fade. With a quick smile that she hoped was reassuring, she gave the Staff Lieutenant a nod and said:

'I'm sure you're right. Carry on, Lieutenant.'

'Yes, ma'am.'


	11. Flashback: Survival

**[Flashback: 14 years before ME1]**

******(TRIGGER WARNING: SEXUAL ASSAULT)**

Shepard pulled her white tank top down over her bare torso and cast around for her jeans. Beside her, the semi-naked, blond man with the scraggly whiskers stretched contentedly and lay back against the sofa. The room was cluttered and bordering on unhygienic. Half-eaten food, drug paraphernalia, and dirty clothing littered the floor. There were no windows and only one door, and what passed for decor was a ratty leather sofa and a table with four mismatched chairs. Shepard had come to loathe the sight of it.

Two years of the streets. Two years of stealing and scrounging. Two years of hungry days and dangerous nights. The Tenth Street reds had become Shepard's meal ticket, her means to survive. A small gang of lowlifes in the slums of New York City, living off of thievery, prostitution, and drug distribution - the Reds had taken in Shepard and her young friend Kitt when they'd had nowhere else to go. Of course, there was a price. There was no such thing as charity in Shepard's world. Everything came at a price.

"You haven't been bringing in your share lately, Shepard," breathed the unkempt young man. He scratched his chin. "Monk and Kastner ain't happy…"

Shepard leaned over the arm of the sofa and snatched up her discarded jeans. She glanced back over her shoulder at the man and found him eyeing her naked backside. With a barely contained shudder of contempt, she sat back in the seat and began to drag her jeans up her legs.

"Are you kidding me?" she grunted, wriggling into the stiff denim garment. "The nasty shit I do for you, Veeke… I ought to get a reduced rate of membership."

Veeke shrugged. "That's a whole 'nother deal," he reminded her callously. "I get my regular from you, and Kitt stays clean."

_Bastard._ She remembered the night she made that disgusting "deal". Young Kitt had suffered enough two years ago, before Shepard had rescued her from the hands of those sick traffickers. Barely nine years old at the time, the girl had latched on to Shepard as her savior and only friend. She was almost twelve now - still just a child. Shepard would do anything to keep her from reliving the horrific experiences again. And that "anything" had been demanded.

_"Don't touch her, please!" she begged, as the gang pawed lecherously at little Kitt. "I'll do whatever you want, just leave her out of it!"_

_She remembered Veeke calling off the attack. Striding towards her in that gloomy alleyway. Circling her. Examining her like a piece of meat._

_"All right," he told her. "Nobody touches the kid, and we own your sweet little ass."_

_"Grow her hair out and she'd make pretty good bait," another gang member noted._

_Veeke unzipped Shepard's jacket and slipped a hand inside her vest. She remembered what it felt like the first time he touched her. She had retreated into her own mind, blocked him out, the way she had learned to do long ago._

Looking over at him now, this dirty, good-for-nothing drug addict, Shepard felt no shame over the things she'd done. She felt powerful. She could use her body without involving her heart or mind, to get what she wanted, to keep a roof over Kitt's head, to_ survive._

"The boys have a job lined up for you," said Veeke. "A way you can make us some credits."

He reached out and flipped her tangled black curls across her face. She shook it off and stared him down.

"No problem," she replied coldly. "When do I start?"


	12. Flashback: Horizon (Part I)

**[ME2: Horizon]**

'Commander, the Illusive Man wants to speak with you urgently. He's waiting for you on vid comm.'

Mercy stopped what she was doing. With a swipe of her hand she sent the Galaxy Map zooming out to idle mode, then stepped down from the CIC. Some timing. She was already armoured up and ready for the system jump to Osun, where the prison ship Purgatory was stationed. But if the Illusive Man had any more intel to offer, she wasn't about to turn him away.

She gave Chambers a curt nod and strode towards the Armoury doors. Her red and black N7 armour moved easily as she walked, well-worn and familiar. Sure, it wasn't the most efficient model available, but it felt like her second skin. She had been offered the prototype Cerberus Assault suit, but had turned it down. She may be working with Cerberus, but she'd be damned if she was going to wear their colours. It was maddening enough that they had stamped the _Normandy's _hull with their logo - Mercy wanted no part of their branding.

She passed through the Armoury without a word to Jacob. Emerging into the Comm Room, she came to a halt at the foot of the Cerberus-shaped table and hit the flashing 'call waiting' button. Orange light rose from the floor beneath her boots and surrounded her in a neon grid. She blinked and let her eyes adjust to the holographic environment that filled her senses. A contrast of dark and light, all and nothing, the blinding glow of a star burning hotly at its centre.

Seated upon the illusion of space itself, the Illusive Man was almost invisible in his black suit. Two things gave away his presence: the subtle pulse of his cigarette light, and those artificial irises of piercing electric blue.

'Shepard,' he said, a hint of anticipation in his usually soulless voice. 'I think we have them. Horizon - one of our colonies in the Terminus Systems - just went silent.'

Mercy peered into his glowing eyes, attempting to assess the man behind the synthetic light.

'If it isn't under attack, it soon will be,' he told her. 'Has Mordin delivered the countermeasure for the seeker swarms?'

'Not yet,' Mercy replied.

'Let's hope he works well under pressure.' He crossed one leg over his knee. 'There's something else you should know.'

She waited. Watched him take a long drag from his cigarette.

'One of your former crew, Kaidan Alenko, is stationed on Horizon.'

Mercy's breath caught in her chest. _Kaidan_. Her thoughts and emotions were swept up in an instant of time, casting her into disarray. She struggled to maintain her composure. There was a second of silence, before she forced her voice to a normal level:

'Last I knew, Kaidan was Alliance. Why is he out in the Terminus Systems?'

If he had noticed the hesitation, he did not let on. 'Officially, it's an outreach program to improve Alliance relations with the colonies. But they're up to something. And if they sent Commander Alenko, it must be big…'

_Commander…_

'I suggest you take it up with him,' he added dismissively.

_So many things to ask him. So much to tell him. I need to… Damn it, Shepard, get your head in the game. _She gave the situation full priority, dropping all other matters into darkness. Almost immediately upon thinking about it, she was suspicious.

'The Collectors _just happened_ to pick a colony with one of my former crew?' she noted with an arched brow. 'I don't buy it.'

'It shouldn't be a surprise the Collectors are interested in you. Especially if they're working for the Reapers.' After a pause, he said very slowly, deliberately: 'They might be going after him to get to you.'

She set her jaw tightly and she felt her nostrils flare._ If they so much as touch him…_

The urgency was clear. 'Send the coordinates,' she said crisply. 'We'll head straight there.' Without waiting for a response, Mercy hit the return button.

As the holo-grid disintegrated around her and the channel faded out, she heard the Illusive Man call:

'This is the most warning we've ever had, Shepard. Good luck.'

Mercy tightened her gauntlets unconsciously, her doubts and fears rolling beneath the surface of her thoughts like stormy seas. Determination filled her. Impatience streaked her sky. She set off at a brisk, near aggressive, pace, with eyes like thunder.

'Joker, set a course for Horizon. I've got to go see the professor.'


	13. Flashback: Horizon (Part II)

**[ME2: Horizon]**

Jacob was working as fast as he could, but the Collector slugs were narrowly missing him. Every few seconds he'd get singed. His barrier had long since lost its power - he was a sitting duck. Mercy lit up a fuel tank across the commons in an attempt to draw the enemy's attention away from him. Across to her left she could hear Miranda screaming with the exertion of her biotic warp attacks. If Jacob didn't get those AA guns back online soon, they were all going to end up like the colonists.

Husks were clambering over the corpses of their comrades in mad desperation to get to the humans. Mercy was focused on the creatures with the rifles, so she wasn't keeping a close enough eye on the Husks. One of them almost reached her from behind. A shriek erupted from its twisted mouth, alerting her prematurely, and she whirled to meet it. It threw itself against her gun, pinning the weapon to her body beneath her arm. Mercy fought to throw the monster back and get her M-15 righted, but it clamped on tightly, legs wrapped around her trunk, and took her by the hair. Her head was yanked back. She saw those glowing, soulless eyes move in. And then she felt a wrench of searing pain as the creature sunk its teeth into her neck.

With a roar, Mercy ripped her backup pistol from its holster with her free arm, shoved it hard into the Husk's protruding ribcage, and blasted straight through its body. There was no time to think about the gash in her neck. She spun to shoot a Collector drone in the head, decimating its bug eyes as it fell. A quick glance at the gun tower told her that Jacob was about to be overrun. Mercy dove into cover and loosed a clip into the swarm, took three in perfect shots, and riddled the legs of the others as she dropped to the ground mid-firing to dodge a dark energy flare.

'What the hell is that!' came a shout from across the commons.

Her head snapped up, and as soon as she saw it the blood drained from her face. Huge and hulking. Encased in metal, the sunlight glinting off its armour. Great hooked pincers extended from its centre mass, laced with electric blue energy. It came down from the sky like a ship fashioned in the image of an insect, and as it drew close to the ground Mercy realised with horror that its chest plate was made up of skulls. They looked like Husk heads, their expressions screaming, their eyes hollow. She knew with a sickening certainty that those things were once humans.

'Guns as 87% readiness, Shepard!'

Jacob's voice rumbled in the blood rush of her ears.

Mercy sank behind her makeshift cover, out of breath and slippery with blood - both hers and alien. Her Vindicator was bleeping wildly in the grip of her gauntlet. Forcing her muscles to move, she slammed the release on the butt of the rifle and ejected the red hot thermal clip. The huge metal… thing had touched down and was moving towards her. She grabbed a new clip from her leg pack and punched it in. When she shouted, her voice was haggard and painful:

'Miranda, keep those drones off of Jacob! I'll deal with this oversized tin can!'

She rolled and bounced up at the other end of her cover, pointed her gun at one of those terrifying skulls, and unleashed the new clip. The empty pops and sparks as the slugs made contact told her that the enemy had erected a barrier. She kept up the assault, waiting for the rapid fire of her rifle to make it through - it was only a matter of time. The thing was moving fairly slowly. Surely she could weaken the barrier enough to break through with a concussive shot before it reached her with those menacing-looking pincers.

But then the biotic energy surrounding the creature flared, and in the front of its head four lights burst into brilliant blue. There came a low humming sound, and the air felt like it did just before thunder strikes. Mercy realised that it was charging up for something. The cargo crates behind which she had taken refuge were not going to withstand any kind of substantial biotic attack. She had to get out of there.

Just as she leapt away from the crates, the creature let loose. A massive dual particle beam came screaming towards her. It tore through the cargo crates as if they were made of wood, scorching the ground where just moments ago Mercy had sat. The Commander felt the heat lick at her face as the beams followed right on her tail. She threw herself headlong across the base of a loading crane, landed heavily on her hip, and instantly rolled for the cover of the crane's tyre as pain lanced through her leg. Thankfully the machine held against the barrage of particle beams. Mercy sagged for a moment to catch her breath.

Beyond her one-on-one battle, she could hear the sounds of Miranda and Jacob struggling against the never-ending onslaught of drones and Husks. She had to take out this behemoth before she rejoined the fight. The blinding light of the beam vanished, and Mercy risked a glance over the shoulder of the crane. The metal monster was still headed her way, and it was raising off the ground as it picked up speed, its insectoid legs lifted like a grasshopper springing into the air. Soon it would clear the crane and be right on top of her. She contemplated her choice of actions. There was no way she wanted to be in front of that particle beam again. And those pincers could shred her apart.

With a deep breath, she loaded her Vindicator with a concussive shot, took hold of the crane's passenger door, and hoisted herself up onto the loading platform. The creature was just a few feet away, almost level with the platform as it rose up. Mercy took a running leap, launched herself with all her strength, and landed on the enemy's back. Her boots slipped and almost lost their grip but Mercy dropped to a crouch and righted herself upon her knees. No hesitation, no time to think, she took both weapons in her hands and sighted them directly down. She fired.

The concussive shot hit like a hammer, sending a massive shudder through the metal skull. Beside it, the armour piercing ammo equipped by the pistol unleashed full force. Mercy gripped with her knees, practically straddling the creature's head, as she pumped the triggers. It span and rolled, attempting to dislodge her, and her spine wrenched with the effort of holding on. Through gritted teeth she kept those guns firing, until both were about to overheat. The thing's armour was being torn apart, sparks were flying, and she had to keep her eyes closed against the danger of being blinded, but still she held on. It was with a scream of utter rage and desperation that Mercy emptied the last of her rounds into the beast, and finally it shuddered and dropped. She leapt clear just as the blue energy ignited.

The blast threw her across the commons and she struck the wall of one of the buildings with a force that blew the breath from her lungs. She landed on the ground. Her vision blurred. She fought to breathe. Pain flared in the pit of her stomach and set her muscles on fire.

_Get up!_

She slammed a fist down on the ground and pushed, struggling to get to her feet. A Husk hurtled at her, shrieking, and she kicked it away. God, the pain that went through her leg! She bit her lip and reached for a new thermal clip, dropping the pistol in favour of the assault rifle. She could barely see, but her senses were so finely tuned to battle that she could aim blind and still hit home. She blasted the fallen Husk and shot another behind it.

'One hundred percent!' crowed Jacob Taylor.

The AA guns surged. The Collectors recoiled. The ship was hit, but it was not enough. They fled from orbit, damaged, crippled, but in possession of hundreds of colonists who would never be seen again.


	14. Flashback: Horizon (Part III)

**[ME2: Horizon]**

The colonist burst from his hiding place, chasing the fleeing shadow of the Collector vessel as it left orbit.

'No!' he shouted. 'Don't let them get away!'

Mercy was on the verge of collapse. The adrenaline from the battle was ebbing fast and she was left feeling battered and exhausted. Blood from her neck gash was trickling down beneath her armour. Her leg was throbbing in almost excruciating pain. Staring after the disappearing ship, helpless, useless, she wanted to scream.

'Half the colony is in there!' cried the colonist. 'They took Ian and Sam and- and Lilith! Do something!'

'Don't you think I know that?' she snapped at him, eyes flaring. 'What the hell do you expect me-'

Miranda interjected to head off an altercation. 'If it wasn't for Shepard, you'd all be on board that ship.'

As Mercy was about to turn on Lawson and tell her that she did not want or need her to defend her, the haggard colonist said:

'Shepard? Wait… I know that name…' For the first time since their meeting he looked closely at her. His gaze lingered on her scuffed N7 shoulder plate. 'Sure, I remember you! You're some type of big Alliance hero.' His words were laced with sarcasm.

'Commander Shepard…' came a new voice.

Mercy's heart faltered. The voice gripped her, filled her mind and body and possessed her entirely. That voice…

'Captain of the Normandy, First Human Spectre…'

As the figure emerged from the shadows Mercy felt an ache deep inside. He was older. A lot older than the two years that had passed. Grief and loneliness had eroded his once boyish gentleness, his brow was lined with concerns, and his eyes were so much darker. Oh God, the sorrow in those eyes…

Kaidan Alenko walked towards her, the same man and yet not the same. With a wry smile he added softly:

'Savior… of the Citadel…'

His gaze met hers. Mercy knew in an instant that it was not the same way he used to look at her. After a few moments of hallowed silence, Kaidan turned away and said to the colonist:

'You're in the presence of a legend, Delan.' Then, accusingly, once more at Mercy: 'And a ghost.'

Delan regarded Kaidan with utter contempt. Shaking his head, he complained: 'All the good people we lost and_ you_ get left behind… Figures.' He threw up his arms in disgust. 'Screw this! I'm done with you Alliance types.'

The colonist stormed off, but no one even noticed his departure. Miranda and Jacob were silent, deathly so. Mercy was frozen. Kaidan began to walk slowly towards her, and with every step she could see a new and conflicting emotion in his tired eyes. He studied her features like a man not believing what he saw. Confusion. Fear. Regret. Mercy felt his pain in the breath of air between them. It was in silence that they shared this breath, their hearts and souls reaching out in some hopeless attempt to communicate. There was uncertainty in his steps. For a moment it seemed that he was going to turn back.

But then he let go of the chaos in which he was lost, closed his eyes to the pain, and simply took her in his arms.

Mercy sank against him, warmth spreading through her cold bones. She felt his cheek against hers, his sigh on her neck. She smelled his sweat intermingled with her own and was overcome with memories. When he spoke, his voice was husky, strained:

'I thought you were dead, Shepard… We all did.'

She squeezed him tightly. Then, reluctantly, they both let go.

'It's been too long, Kaidan,' she whispered as he pulled away. She gave him a soft smile. 'How have you been?'

He shook his head in disbelief. 'Is that all you have to say?' A choke escaped his lungs as he fought back tears. 'You show up after two years and just act like nothing happened? I thought we had something, Shepard. Something real.' He took hold of her hands and Mercy watched him struggle as he stared down at them. 'I… I loved you.'

The words were like a dagger in her heart. They had never spoken the true meaning of their feelings for each other. The word "love" had never been risked. Shepard had gone to her death without ever telling him that she loved him, and he had lost her without ever knowing it. As momentous as his words were at this moment, Mercy noticed with deep sorrow that he had said "loved".

'Thinking you were dead _tore me apart_,' Kaidan hissed, his voice rising. 'How could you put me through that? Why didn't you try to contact me? Why didn't you let me know you were alive?!'

Mercy was stunned. 'You're angry?' She could not believe it. 'Kaidan, I didn't fake my death so I could drop off the grid! I was clinically dead!' Hurt and rage pulsed in her blood. 'It took _two years_ for Cerberus to bring me back! I was-'

'You're with Cerberus…' Kaidan immediately let go of her hands. The intensity of the betrayal in his eyes made her stop mid-sentence. He was stepping back from her, shaking his head, looking at her like she was some kind of monster. 'We heard rumours, but… I never thought…'

'Rumours?' said Miranda, who had previously remained quiet. 'So much for security…'

Kaidan gave her a glance. 'Alliance intel thought Cerberus might be behind the missing human colonies,' he said quietly. 'I got a tip this colony might be the next one to get hit. Anderson stonewalled me, but I had heard the rumours. That you weren't dead…' His sad gaze passed from Miranda to Jacob and then back to Mercy. 'And you were working for the enemy.'

'No,' Shepard told him vehemently. 'Cerberus and I want the same thing: to save our colonies. That doesn't mean I answer to them!'

'Do you really believe that? Or is that just want Cerberus wants you to think?'

Frustration was igniting into anger. 'The Alliance sent you here to investigate me, didn't they?' she accused him.

'I was here for _Cerberus_. You were just a rumour. I wanted to believe the rumours that you were alive. But I never expected _anything_ like this.' He regarded her with disgust, brow furrowed and lips curling angrily. 'You turned your back on everything we believed in!' he burst out. 'You betrayed the Alliance! You betrayed _me_…'

'Stop it!' it was almost a plea. 'You need to focus on what's happening now. You saw it yourself - the Collectors are targeting human colonies, and they're working with the Reapers!' She was losing the battle and the desperation to convince Kaidan was threatening to shatter her strong exterior.

'I wanna believe you, Shepard,' he said. 'But I don't trust Cerberus. They could be using the threat of a Reaper to manipulate you. What if they're behind it? What if they're working with the Collectors?'

Miranda snorted behind her. 'Typical Alliance attitude. You're so focused on Cerberus that you're blind to the real threat.'

'You're letting how you feel about their history get in the way of the facts,' Mercy told Kaidan urgently. 'You have to listen to reason!'

He touched his fingertips to his temple, the lines of migraine pain drawing at his face. 'You show up after two years and tell me you're working with Cerberus. Where does reason figure into any of this?' He sighed. 'You've changed.'

'Kaidan…'

'But_ I_ still know where my loyalties lie. I'm an Alliance soldier. Always will be.' With that statement his countenance was renewed, and Kaidan drew himself up proudly. She could see it in his expression now. This was the end. He had made his choice. 'I've gotta report back to the Citadel,' he said. '_They_ can decide if they believe your story or not.'

Without waiting for her response, Commander Kaidan Alenko turned away and started to walk. Mercy wanted to go after him. She wanted to fight him. She wanted to convince him.

_You can't leave like this! There's something you don't know - something I have to tell you. _Would it even make any difference now? His faith in her had died the moment she stepped foot on that damned Cerberus station. His love for her was gone. But he had lost more than he knew that day when the Normandy went down. More than he would ever know.

_Please turn around,_ she begged, reaching out to him in wordless prayer._Please, Kaidan… I need you…_

He stopped. Perhaps he had heard her silent cries. Mercy held her breath.

Not even allowing himself to look back at her, he said in a quiet voice:

'Goodbye, Shepard. And be careful.'

And when he walked away he took the last piece of her broken heart with him.


	15. Flashback: Horizon (Part IV)

**[ME2: Horizon]**

_You betrayed the Alliance…_

The N7 shoulder plate hit the wall with a violent clang.

_You betrayed me…_

The pile of armour pieces exploded with a kick that sent them flying across the deck. She snatched up the nearest Cerberus branded item - which was a state-of-the-art laptop - and hurled it at the floor. Her ears were roaring with the sound of her pulse. Her body was racked with pain. She was so exhausted that when she drove her bare fist into the glass partition, the surface did not even crack. She ignored the throbbing of her knuckles and punched again. No use. Enraged, she slammed her hands down on the desk and ripped everything away from it in one vicious sweep. Datapads and ammo clips clattered to the ground, papers scattered, coffee cups spilled their cold contents.

Mercy fought the tears. She fought them with anger and aggression - hatred for Cerberus, hatred for herself. Tears would be too merciful. "Mercy" Shepard, the Butcher of Torfan, battlefield warrior, torturer, murderer, she had spilled blood many times beyond counting. Choking on her own breath she staggered into the bathroom and started the shower. As the warm water rained down upon her and the puddle beneath her feet became tinged with red, Mercy imagined the room filling with blood. The blood of her enemies - her victims. If every drop of blood she had ever wrought from the living were to be poured into this room, she imagined it would drown her.

She could not breathe any more. Pain filled her chest and overflowed into her throat. She let out a stifled cry and then spluttered as the water sprayed in her face. The image of red torrents overwhelming her, she was convinced that if she opened her eyes she would see herself drenched in blood. Suffocating. Drowning.

_You betrayed me…_

'I'm sorry!' she shouted. 'Kaidan, I'm so sorry! I killed-'

Suddenly overcome with a feeling of complete weakness, Mercy's legs buckled and she dropped to the floor of the shower. Her scarred and bruised body glimmered with the water drops, soaking her hair, washing her wounds clean. But she did not feel clean. Every drop was like the blood she had shed - and that blood was her very own.

Weakly, softly, Mercy sank against the cold wall and let the tears come. When she spoke again it was barely a whisper to an empty room from an empty woman.

'I killed our baby…'


	16. Flashback: Horizon (Part V)

**[ME2: Horizon]**

So the Illusive Man had been right all along. The Collectors were looking for Shepard. A subtle rumour carefully placed was all it took for them to come running to Horizon. The colony had been used as bait. Kaidan had been used as bait. And half of the live bait had been lost to the Illusive Man's selfish gamble. Mercy was livid when he confessed all this to her, but she maintained her composure - an hour sobbing like a child in the shower had been quite enough to flush the emotions out of her system. There was no more time for weakness, no more energy to be wasted on foolish endeavours of the heart. Mercy had a team to recruit and train, while the Illusive Man tracked down the intel that would get them through the Omega-4 relay and right to the Collector's front door.

As deeply as Mercy had buried her feelings, it seemed like the entire crew had something to say on the topic of Kaidan Alenko. She told the Illusive Man to mind his own damn business. Yeoman Chambers - _God_, how Mercy hated shrinks - had stuck her pretty little nose in where it didn't belong for the hundredth time, and had been silenced by the Commander's icy glare. Even Miranda came to her cabin in a rare display of fellow feeling.

'Shepard, you should probably know… As the senior scientist on the Lazarus Project, I have complete knowledge of your physical make up.'

Mercy was hunched over her desk, finishing up the Horizon report on her semi-functional laptop. She didn't look up at Miranda's comment.

'Miss Lawson, if you're trying to get me naked, you're gonna have to wait til I die again.'

Ignoring the dry joke, Miranda walked towards the desk, her hands fiddling uncertainly with her hair. Mercy could sense her disquiet. She stopped typing. She could see from the corner of her eye the Cerberus agent's boot tapping on the ground.

'Shepard, I…'

Mercy looked up at her for the first time and saw that her stormy eyes were filled with sympathy.

'Look,' she told her, closing the broken lid of her console, 'Miranda, if you're here to talk about what happened on Horizon, save it. I've had enough concerned questions about my relationship with Lieuten- uh, _Commander_ Alenko. Besides,' she added with an arched eyebrow, 'I didn't think you were the concerned type.'

Miranda shook her head. 'It's not about that. It's…' She sighed and then just came out with it: 'Shepard, I know you were pregnant when you died.'

The silence was deep.

Mercy's jaw tightened as she stared unseeing at the cabin wall. _Of all people: Miranda Lawson…_ She forced her expression and her voice to remain level. 'Uh-huh. What about it?'

Miranda was clearly very uncomfortable. She seemed to be struggling with basic human emotions such as pity and fellow-feeling. She was like a fish out of water. But she was trying.

'I know,' she fumbled, 'that the fetus shared the DNA of Commander Alenko. I removed the tissue myself…'

Mercy's hackles rose at the clinical term. The fetus? The _tissue? My baby! That was my baby, you soulless bitch!_

'When I reported it to the Illusive Man,' Miranda continued, unaware of Mercy's inner rage, 'I asked him how I should proceed, since he had instructed me to restore you exactly the way you were. Recreating a fetus was out of the question, of course. But your reproductive capabilities…'

Suddenly Mercy understood. She was about to be told the answer to something that she had wondered often since her restoration. As a young soldier she had never given much thought to the idea of motherhood. It never seemed like something she would be any good at. How does an orphan learn to be a parent, anyway? She had dismissed the notion - or at least stored it away for the distant future. But Kaidan, the only man she had ever truly loved, had changed her. He had changed her in more than just her outlook on love, more than just the harsh edges of her personality that were now softer, more than the merciless instinct that had almost driven her to give the lives of hostages in exchange for her own bloody vengeance on the batarian terrorists. He had changed the heart of this soldier into the heart of a woman, and when he conceived a new life within her he had opened up the part of her that could be a mother.

'I'm sorry,' said Miranda, who was trying not to look at the Commander's face. 'We thought it best… That is to say…'

'I can't have children.'

'Your organs were so badly damaged, and it took so much time and resources to bring you back,' Lawson continued defensively, 'it would have meant recreating your entire reproductive system. We decided that it would be best for the mission…'

Mercy released a long, slow breath. Nodding to herself, she leaned back in her chair and forced a tight smile. 'And here I thought that the lack of monthly discomfort was just a perk of these superwoman implants.'

'Essentially, we performed a complete hysterectomy. You have no uterus.' Miranda regarded her inappropriate smile with something akin to sadness. 'There just wasn't time to tell you during the attack on Lazarus Station, and since then… I'm sorry, Shepard. I thought you should know.'

'I appreciate you telling me,' she replied calmly. 'Your bedside manner sucks, and you're not exactly on my Christmas card list, but at least you can be human once in a while.'

Miranda could see through her glib façade. She knew it. Mercy didn't like the sight of pity when it was directed at her - even less so when it was in the eyes of someone she despised.

'I should go,' said the Cerberus agent quietly.

'Of course,' Mercy waved her away casually. 'I've gotta finish up this debrief anyway.'

She heard Lawson leave the room. Her fingers skimmed the jagged lid of her laptop. The standby light flickered and died. Mercy opened it and attempted to start it up again. No luck. The machine was lost, and it had taken her report with it. With a sigh, Mercy wheeled her chair over to the adjoining desk, grabbed a datapad from the shelf, and started over again.


	17. Flashback: A Hero

**[Flashback: 14 years before ME1]**

**(TRIGGER WARNING: SEXUAL ASSAULT)**

A collection of synthesized sounds poured into the air, a blend that mimicked the human pulse in a state of arousal, carefully composed for the specific purpose of inciting sexual feelings. The lighting was low, subtle hues of pink and purple, infiltrated by the smoke of dry ice, casting deep and sensual shadows across the room. Simulated pheromones drifted in through the environmental filters. There was a scent of musk and spices. Every sense was manipulated in this place, designed to draw out the basest of desires. It was a legitimate gentleman's club, but it definitely skirted the borders of the law. The services offered here were just shy of prostitution.

The bar was tended by buxom girls in latex uniforms, who spent most of their time leaning over to wipe up non-existent spills. The waitresses were young, slender, and long-legged, whose outfit consisted of nothing more than a thong one-piece. The main attraction was on the series of glowing tables, built like fashion runways across the length of the room, where the dancers paraded back and forth. Each seat at a table had a holographic interface on a small panel in front of it. From there, the customers would transfer credits from their accounts - whatever amount they chose - and each transaction would cause a pink light to activate from the individual's chair. The dancers would head for the lights, ready to give special attention to whichever patron's chair was flashing pink. It was, in effect, a rewards system.

It was here that a sixteen year-old Marie Shepard had been indentured by the Tenth Street Reds. Six nights a week she stripped for the city's lowest forms of human. Six nights a week of chasing those damned pink lights, selling her soul to the highest bidder. She didn't care. She had sold a lot more than that already. It was easy for her to shut down her emotions and let the men leer over her naked body, after years of giving and being taken. The eyes could not hurt her, could not sully her, could not inhabit her flesh. The only man who could touch her was Veeke, and the price he paid for it was Shepard's most noble sale; the protection of Kitt. So long as that child was safe, Shepard didn't care what they did to her.

Among the scum and the filth of the clientèle, Shepard had found a couple of unlikely friends. Two Alliance marines, Gray and Amano, were regulars at the club and had taken a shine to the girl with the raven curls. What began as a less threatening pair of customers whom Shepard would be relieved to see in the pink glow had become something that she looked forward to on a Friday night. Sure, they were there to ogle some female flesh, just like the rest, but at least they weren't animals. Gray and Amano would chat to the young stripper as if she was a person not a product, regaling her with tales of Alliance missions. Even after the show was over, they would buy Shepard drinks and talk to her down at the bar.

It was a slow night. There were half a dozen paying viewers at the tables. The pink light kept coming on for one gentleman in particular, and Shepard seemed to be his favorite. She was down to her g-string, topless, in thigh-high stockings and black stilettos, returning to the man at the end of the table every time he dropped some more credits in the system. When he began to proposition her she thought nothing of it - it happened all the time with drunk and lusty clients. But as the night wore on he was becoming more and more insistent. Shepard was relieved to be called to the other side of the runway when Gray lit up his seat. She strode over to the young marine, swaying her hips enticingly.

"I think that guy's had one too many," noted Gray, leaning forward over the table.

He was an attractive man, clean-cut, broad-shouldered, with dark eyes and a suave smile. Shepard had grown fond of seeing him. She knelt on the table before him and spread her knees, running her hands up her naked torso.

"He's creeping me out," she told Gray. "Make sure you keep up the credit transfers, so I won't have to go over there again." She gave him a cheeky smile.

The marine laughed. "You're gonna ruin me, Shepard. I spend half my pay on you as it is."

Shepard drew her luxurious hair across her breasts playfully. "Worth every penny," she teased.

"I ain't denying it."

The gentleman at the far end of the table was becoming agitated. He seemed to be angry at his favorite stripper's attention to another customer. He put down some more credits to light up his chair, signalling for her to return. Shepard groaned. She stood up to obey.

"Uh-uh," called Gray, hitting his account panel. "He ain't having you tonight."

Shepard grinned as she saw the marine's chair flash pink. An excuse to stay. She lay down on the table in front of him and arched her back, rolling her hips in a slow circle. Gray bit his lower lip and watched in pleasure. She liked the way he looked when he was aroused. The sight of his erection straining beneath his fatigues was exhilarating for her. She had wondered more than once what it would be like to become more intimately acquainted with the handsome soldier. Not that Veeke would ever allow it.

"Heh," Gray chuckled suddenly. "Looks like I win."

Shepard followed his gaze to the other end of the table, where the disgruntled client was getting up to leave. She rolled onto her stomach and kicked her legs back and forth, resting her chin on her hand and giving Gray a little wink.

"I'm glad," she purred.

She played for the young soldier for a while longer, until last call was made. Then Gray transferred a few more credits to her account, drained his beer, and stood up.

"I guess that means show's over," he said. "Damn, I love watching you move, Shepard. I don't know what it is about you. You drive me wild."

Shepard perched on the edge of the table and toyed with her nipples provocatively, giving Gray an impish grin. "Will you be here tomorrow night?" she asked him hopefully.

The marine stretched out his neck from side to side until it made a popping sound. "If you had your way, I'd be spending all my down time here."

"Of course. You got somewhere better to be?"

He laughed. "Babe, there ain't nowhere better than here with you." With a nod of his head, the soldier adjusted his fatigues and turned to leave.

"Night, Gray."

"Night, babe. Take care, y'hear?"

The customers filtered out and Shepard climbed down from the runway to retrieve her clothes. She headed for the dressing room as the older girls were cleaning up. After a quick shower and a change into jeans and a t-shirt, Shepard bid her fellow employees good night and left the club.

She emerged into the cool night air with a deep sigh. God, she hoped Veeke wasn't in the mood tonight. Although it was thrilling to imagine Gray in his place during rough sex. She wondered what the marine felt like underneath his uniform. She wanted to play with his dog tags and draw him in to a deep kiss, slide her hands down inside his belt and grip that tempting hard-on. She made a lusty sound in the back of her throat. Turning her face to the gloomy alleyway, Shepard started to walk in the direction of Veeke's place.

It was almost immediately that she realised she was not alone. She glanced behind her, and a hand shot forth and grabbed hold of her neck. She tried to cry out, but another hand clamped tightly over her mouth. She found herself being driven back into the wall and pinned there.

"Now I get my turn," hissed her attacker - the drunken customer from the club. "Stay quiet and you won't get hurt."

Shepard struggled in his grip. She felt panic seep into her veins as the man tore open the front of her jacket and thrust his hand inside. With one arm he held her fast against the wall, using his knees to secure her lower body. With his free hand he clawed at her clothing. She fought against him, but he was too strong. She called out.

"I said quiet, you dirty bitch!" the man snarled.

He struck her across the face and hot pain shot through Shepard's cheek. She refused to remain still, grabbing his fingers and attempting to pry them open. This earned her another blow. Angry and frightened, she jerked one leg free and stomped down hard on his toes. The attacker shouted in pain but did not release her. He was spurred by his rage, covering her mouth with his own and forcing his tongue inside, while his hands pushed down into her jeans. Shepard felt his fingers pull open her zipper, and then they were delving inside her. She wrenched back in an attempt to shake him, but he held her even harder. She was panicking.

It all happened in a blur. The man was pulled away from her by another figure. He was thrown to the ground. He scrambled up and lunged at the assailant, and Shepard stared in shock as he was punched savagely, taken in a choke hold, and pinned to the ground. She found herself faced with the glorious sight of Private Gray holding her attacker against the cold, concrete pavement. The man struggled against him but was unable to move. He coughed and spluttered, kicked out wildly, and screamed like a madman. Gray stared down at him in contempt. The marine drew back one muscular arm, grabbed the low-life by the back of the hair, and delivered a powerful strike to his nose. He crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

Shepard was trembling. She didn't even notice the pain in her jaw or the cold night air invading her torn garments. She stood, frozen, eyes locked on Gray as he let go of the drunken attacker and moved away from him. He turned to her.

"Shepard, are you okay?" he said, walking over to her.

His brown eyes scanned her with concern. A hand reached out to touch her face. It was only when his fingers brushed her skin that Shepard felt the pain of her injuries flare. Her senses came rushing back to her in a dizzying wave. She whimpered and shrank back.

Gray lifted his hands away quickly. "Shh," he soothed. "It's okay, babe. I ain't gonna hurt you."

Shepard was overwhelmed by unwelcome memories. She was fighting to breathe as flashes of her past barraged her relentlessly. Pain. Fear. Degradation. Humiliation. Rough hands on her body, bonds on her wrists and ankles, the sensation of burning skin, the blow of boots against her ribs, knuckles across her face. She buried her face in her hands and began to cry as those horrendous days and nights revisited her, like ghosts sent to torment her in her grief.

Darkness came. She was distantly aware of someone catching her as she toppled forward, of strong arms lifting her up. She sank into black.


End file.
